Caregiver
by GuyWithTheCatTattoos
Summary: Sequel to "Caveira's Playground". - Blitz has been recovered by his team after having been severely tortured and mutilated by Sledge and Caveira, the last two enemy operators. While they're hunting them down, Ela's trying to figure out why their new medic acts so strange aroynd her...
1. Chapter 1

**This story follows after my story "Caveira's Playground". You don't have to read it to read this story, but they are directly connected.**

 **Warnings: mentions of rape, abuse, gross stuff, blood, gore, etc.**

 **This is entirely from Ela's p.o.v.**

 **Characters aren't mine.**

 **Chapter 1:**

* * *

It was painful to watch the video.

Blitz had been missing for nearly a month. We lost him during our battle at the bank at the neighboring city. We had gone back to search for him shortly after, twice, but didn't find any sign of him there. But we found footage of him there. It was clearly left there for us to easily find. When we came back to our temporary base to view the footage, we… there were no words.

Thatcher is our most seasoned veteran. He said in his life, in his entire career, he had never seen anything so evil and disgusting. Mute remained calm, but excused himself halfway through the footage, as he couldn't watch anymore. We were all sickened. We refused to talk about the contents of the video afterwards. The only thing we focused on was finding Blitz, whether he was dead or alive. The footage was given to us to psych us out. It did… It got to all of us. But we're stronger than that. We're determined. And the enemy is weak.

We were able to track down their last whereabouts fairly easy thanks to the video. But it looks like we were supposed to find him. They hadn't made a mistake. They're fucked up.

We found Blitz in a cold, dark cellar. It was filled with useless junk, dust and dirt everywhere, and one lightbulb in the middle of the room. Yet, the first thing you notice is the smell. It reeked of blood, urine, sex, and smelled like death. Blitz was completely naked, on the lone mattress that was against the wall, with his hands tied tightly to his… his testicles. His penis was mutilated. Over top of him was a bundle of barbed wire.

He was coated in blood. I couldn't see his face at all through the blood. The bed was stained with blood. The floor was black with blood and… whatever else. My heart was in my throat. Before I knew it, my eyes were burning and my cheeks were wet.

"He has a pulse," I heard from behind me. Pulse put his Heartbeat Sensor away and ran up to the bed, where we were all carefully trying to remove the barbed wire. I couldn't believe he was still alive. I almost didn't want him to be, in this horrible condition…

When we got the wire off, and cut the ties from his wrists and testicles, we gently lifted him from the bed. He was lying in so much blood that he was stuck to the cloth. I was so afraid we'd lose him at any moment. We were able to get him back to base alive, but in his condition, he could go at any moment. It was nothing short of a miracle that he was alive now.

* * *

Back at base, Blitz had been carefully cleaned up and put in a warm, clean bed. Our new medic was only a rookie but did a damn good job patching him up. After the countless stitches, the multiple surgeries, and all the bandages, Blitz looked like some kind of zombie or mummy. Even his face was completely wrapped up, leaving only his eyes, nose and mouth open with a tube down his throat. The Doc also assured me that he's on painkillers. But, he announced to all of us that Blitz is in critical condition. His chances at survival are slim. Like the rest of us, he said he hopes he will wake from a coma. But if he does, it is not going to be easy for him to live after everything he's endured…

The Doc wouldn't let any of us see Blitz after all the blood was cleaned off. I respect that, but… I can't help but wonder about his face… there was so much blood. I saw what happened in the footage. I know his face was cut up all over, and it was already bloody… I just can't help but want to see his face again, the way it was before he was hurt.

I desperately wished to talk to Blitz. I hope he wakes up really soon.

I'm at his bedside, looking at him, feeling helpless as I see all the bandages and bruises. I know Doc has done what he can, and he's closely watching over him.

Mute comes up to me and puts his hand on my back to comfort me. He stays quiet. For some reason with his presence I feel like I can't hold back anymore and I cry again. Mute pulls me into him and we hug each other. He rubs my back.

Between sobs I start complaining about myself to Mute, "I know I shouldn't cry… I'm an adult…"

"It's okay,"

I clutch onto his uniform, "It's not okay. I'm part of Rainbow, too. We aren't supposed to let our emotions get to us!" My face is buried in his chest.

"You made it to Rainbow because you're strong, smart, and stubborn. A real pain in the ass, really," he says as calm as ever.

"I'm being serious," I look up at him, grumpy. I'm sure my face is very red now.

He looks back at me with his poker face, "I'm being serious as well. You really get on my nerves sometimes,"

I can't help but smile briefly. I know he's joking to get me to stop crying. He's a dick.

"Mute, you need to stop me when I'm about to cry. I can't stand it. I feel stupid," I lay my head back into his chest, looking down at Blitz's slightly heaving chest.

Mute rubs my back again. It's comforting, "You're not alone," he says and goes quiet. Mute was never personal. Did he just admit he cries, too? I don't bother asking, because I know he'd never directly admit to any such thing.

"You should get some sleep," the medic said. I was so exhausted, but I knew there was no way in hell I'd be able to sleep. I wanted to be there to see Blitz wake up. But I know it was his way of kicking us out of the room so he could change Blitz's bandages and whatever else needed to be done. Mute walked me out of the room and we went to our rooms for the night.

* * *

Pulse woke me up. I sat up, tiredly, running my fingers down through my hair. I fell asleep in my clothes. I felt excited. He didn't ever bother me, so he must have good news about Blitz.

"What's happening, Pulse?" My sleepy eyes finally focus on him in my doorway.

"Just come to the kitchen," he said and left.

I patted my hair down more as I came out to the kitchen. For some reason I expected Blitz to be at the table eating with us. But he wasn't. Everyone was at the table except for him. Thatcher, Mute, and Pulse were drinking tea and eating French toast. Doc was drinking coffee, but took it with him to Blitz's room before I was able to sit down.

"I think he's shy around you, Ela," Thatcher said, having watched Doc practically run off when I entered the room.

"I think he doesn't like me," I sat down where someone had set up a plate of French toast and coffee for me. I lifted my coffee up and smelled it. It always smells so amazing.

"Pulse, why'd you wake me up?"

He shrugged.

"Thought you'd like some breakfast before we ate it all,"

"This is kind of fancy for us. Thank you," I took a bite. I lit up. It was amazing!

"Don't thank me," Pulse said between bites, "Thank Doc when you see him,"

"Hm," was my only reply as I thought to myself and continued eating. Our new doctor is strange. Nice, but strange. He really hates talking to me. At least he takes care of us.

After I finished breakfast and talking to the others, I went on my way to the room Blitz was staying in. Before I got there I ran into the doctor in the hallway. He smiled at me briefly, but quickly looked away and tried to walk past me. I turned to him, "Hey, Doc?" He stopped and looked at me. His eyes were dark brown, like my coffee was.

"Thanks for breakfast. It was amazing,"

He flashed another brief and awkward smile, "Yeah. I'm getting more coffee. You can go see Blitz if you want," and then he quickly left. I watched him walk away with haste. I shrugged it off and went to visit Blitz.

I walked in carefully, feeling like somehow I might wake him up from a sleep he really needs. I looked over his body. His heartbeat was still weak. He needed a machine to breathe. The back of my fingers stroked over his bandaged hand. I think of all the things I might say to him when he wakes up. I really wouldn't know what to say. Now I'm gently holding his hand. At least it's warm, unlike when we found him in that cellar. I keep my gaze on his eyes, just hoping they open.

I jumped as I heard someone speak suddenly from behind me. It was Doc.

"Sorry I scared you," he walked up to Blitz's bed, on the opposite side of me. "I was asking if you were done with breakfast. Pulse put everything away, so there are leftovers in the fridge,"

I was just now noticing his French accent, "I'm fine. Thanks, though,"

"Mhm," He sipped his coffee quietly.

"Doc?" He was sitting in a chair just off to the side of the bed, with his coffee in his lap. He looked at me, "Hm?"

"What do you think his chances are of waking up?" I ask.

He looked down at his coffee and yawned. He seems so tired lately.

"Well, it's hard to say. We're not in a hospital, which would be able to give us a better idea…" He was taking his time answering and it was driving me nuts. But he continued, "I don't know,"

"You don't know? You don't have any idea?" I probably sounded too angry. I do that a lot.

"I'm not gonna take a guess. The fact is, he's severely injured. He can't breathe on his own. He's lost a lot of blood. It doesn't look good. But, like you and the others, I hope his outcome is good,"

I can't help but feel like he's so unprofessional. I compare him to our previous doctor. I shouldn't, but I do. Our previous medic was older and… friendlier.

"Our previous doctor would have some idea of his chances," I glared at him.

He glared back at me, "Did he tell you the truth or just what you wanted to hear?"

"He always told the truth. He knew what he was doing,"

"You don't think I know what I'm doing?" He stood up. "I will tell you the truth: he has died twice since I bandaged him up, but I successfully revived him both times,"

I looked at him, shocked. He continued,

"You know what else is the truth? I don't know if he will wake up. I don't know if he'll live or die,"

We stared at each other for a quiet moment before he broke eye contact. It was only now I realized how tired and stressed out he was. He was drinking so much coffee to stay awake and help Blitz.

"He means a lot to me," I admitted softly.

"Do you love him?" he asked abruptly, looking back at me, into my eyes. The question surprised me.

"Yes, he's like a brother to me,"

His face changed immediately from upset and serious, to calm and thoughtful. "I see," was all he said. I was puzzled.

"Why do you ask?"

He responded by shaking his head and saying, "I'm not sure," He looked down at his coffee mug, "I'm getting more coffee. Sorry for getting upset," and he left the room.

I looked back down at Blitz, still holding his hand, confused at the doctor's weird behavior. He gets on my nerves, but then he's so polite. His accent gets heavier when he's upset. I think about that for the rest of the day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you all for the reviews, not only on this story, but some of my others as well. Good, bad, they're all nice to read.**

 **I'll be updating more consistently to avoid making you all wait so long on new chapters.**

 **Thanks, enjoy.**

 **Chapter 2:**

* * *

For the past few mornings, I've woken up to the smell of breakfast.

Ever since we recovered Blitz, our new medic has been making us breakfast every morning. I have to admit, it's been nice. Everything he makes is so good.

We were all sitting at the table, aside from Doc, as usual. He cooks, gets his coffee, and wanders off. I don't even know if he eats. I mean, of course he does, but never with us or in front of us. I know he spends much of his time watching over Blitz, but he seems so avoidant. Particularly of me.

The more he hides, the more curious I become. He doesn't act rude, just so… shy.

"…Ela?"

My eyes look over to Mute sitting across the table from me. I don't say anything.

He wipes his mouth with a napkin then asks, "Are you going to eat your food or stare at it?"

"I'm going to eat it. I'm just thinking," I look at Mute's empty plate.

"I know you don't like eating cold eggs. Maybe you could save your thinking for after you eat?" He watches me, expressionless as always. I look into his gray-blue eyes. They're really pale and cold, like stone. That's the way he likes to come off. But he's really a warm, thoughtful person if you stay on his good side. I can be really childish and immature, I admit it… and I try not to be. But somehow he's always so nice to me, in his sarcastic, teasing way.

"Maybe she's had a palette change, eh?" Thatcher joins in, picking up the dirty dishes and silverware off the table. I'm the only one who hasn't finished. I'm just fiddling with my eggs with my fork as I converse with my teammates.

Mute crosses his arms, looking at me as if in thought. "Hmm…"

"What?" I respond, putting my fork down.

"Maybe what you need is a good old-fashioned English breakfast," he jokes. I immediately grimace. Thatcher chuckles as he stands at the sink, washing dishes. Pulse also smiles, stifling a laugh. They've told me all about the weird things they eat in their home country.

"You know we're only joking? We don't actually eat hedgehogs and chickens in a can," Thatcher laughed.

"I don't care, you guys are sick!" I nearly shout. I shake my head, amused and laughing with them, and start eating.

* * *

After breakfast, I had checked up on Blitz as always. Every time I see him, or think of what he's been through, my heart sinks. I get flashbacks of what I saw in the camera footage, of everything Sledge and Caveira did to him. We all know Caveira is cold-hearted and psychotic, and we're all aware that rape does happen in our line of work, but they really went above and beyond what we could have comprehended. His face… He's going to be disfigured…

I shake my head to get rid of the thoughts. Now I was back in my room, sitting on my bed. I fell back and looked up at the ceiling fan. It was still. The room was quiet and smelled… antique. It was a small old house, but not dilapidated or filthy. It had some things redone so that we could stay here for our work. We have running water and electricity. Three bedrooms, one bathroom. The Brits share a room, Pulse and Doc share a room, and I get the child's room to myself. I kind of like the row of dusty teddy bears on the dresser across the room.

I start to feel like a really hot shower would feel good right now. The bathroom is just down the hall from me.

* * *

I sat on the toilet seat, removing my last piece of clothing, my underwear. I loved feeling the small bathroom fill up with heavy, hot steam. It reminds me of being in a sauna, something I really miss from Europe. I sat there, enjoying it for a moment before stepping into the shower and closing the curtain.

* * *

After shutting the water off, I swiped my soaked hair back out of my eyes and stepped out of the shower, reaching for my towel. I grabbed the bar where my towel usually is. I felt around before looking with my own eyes that there was no towel to be seen. Oh no…

I looked around and under the sink. No towels. I covered my chest, crossing my arms. The closet in the hallway opposite of the bathroom has towels, tons of them. The boys are usually busy doing something. It would just take a second. But I really don't want to risk being seen naked.

I look at my dirty clothes on the floor. I can't stand wearing dirty clothes after showering. But it'd be the smarter option.

I shake my head and just go for it. After peaking out the door carefully, looking up and down the hallway, I jumped at the closet across from me, yanked it open, pulled out a towel, then I darted right back into the bathroom. I sighed a breath of relief and couldn't help but smile at the situation and how embarrassing it could have been.

Now wrapped in a towel, I scooped up my dirty clothes and exited the bathroom, only to bump into the doctor. I gasped. He grabbed my shoulders, afraid I might fall. He let go immediately when he knew I wouldn't.

"Sorry, I was just about to knock to see who was in here…" his French accent was so nice and smooth. I was blushing, though I'm not sure why since I'm covered up with the towel now. He must have just spooked me more than I thought.

"Are you looking for me?" I ask, looking at his blushing face. Wow, he was really red.

"Ah, no, I just needed to use the restroom." He wouldn't look at my face. He rubbed at his fingers a little. Why does he get so nervous around me?

"Doc?"

"Hm?" He looks into my eyes now. He is really handsome. I can feel my face warm up. I almost forget to talk.

"Breakfast was great, again," I smile at him.

He shyly looks away again, "Thanks. I enjoy it."

"I think you should join us for breakfast one of these days, though. It'd be nice," It sounds like I'm asking him on a date. It feels like I am. How stupid of me.

"I can do that. I just don't know what to say." He replies.

"You don't have to say anything. Just chill with us."

"Just chill? I don't think any of us are "chill"," he says. I think he's trying to joke but it comes off kind of rude-sounding. I can't help but smile over it.

"You don't have to. But you're welcome to. Okay?"

He nods.

We had a moment of awkward silence before I decided to go back to my room. I heard him close the bathroom door behind me. I don't know why, but after talking to him, I felt like such an idiot…

* * *

It's been 6 days now, and Blitz isn't awake. I'm getting so frustrated. I need to talk to him, and hug him. He gives the best hugs. He smiles a lot. But now his face is wrapped up in bandages. Almost all of him is wrapped in bandages…

We haven't seen anything of Sledge and Caveira. Pulse has been saying we might still have a 3rd enemy from Sledge's team as well. We got Capitao, and I.Q. Unfortunately, our recruit was a real arrogant prick who thought he could get away with torturing them. We caught I.Q. alive and unharmed but he took her without telling us, and in the heat of battle he raped her and killed her. He bragged about it to Mute and Pulse. Capitao was injured, but would have survived. I'm not saying I really cared if they were alive or dead, but what our recruit did was completely wrong. He lit Capitao on fire, and not only filmed it, but found it funny and somehow sent it to Capitao's team!

That damn kid… that stupid recruit. He's the reason Blitz went through all of that. I'm sure he's serving a long prison sentence, but he deserves the death penalty. I will never forgive him.

I will never forgive Sledge and Caveira, either!

I sigh out loud. I'm painting a teddy bear on one of my GRZMOT explosives in effort to clear my mind, using some pinkish-gold nail polish I found in the bathroom. I'm in the living room, sitting on the couch, crouched over as I paint, completely lost in thought. I'm so angry. I haven't seen Blitz today. I can't stand to see him right now when I'm so upset about him.

And Doc didn't join us for breakfast. I thought, since I offered… actually, invited him to, he actually would for once. I told the others about it while we ate. They didn't really care if he stayed around to eat or not. But I've been annoyed about it all day.

I glance out the window for a moment. It's starting to get dark outside. The sun has lowered out of sight but its light is making the sky purple and the clouds pink and gold… like the nail polish I'm painting with. The little bear I drew on my GRZMOT mine actually looks pretty cute. I set it down on the coffee table in front of me.

As I stir the little brush inside the bottle of nail polish, I look at my nails. They haven't been painted in many years. They used to be colored dark. I really liked dark, metallic greens and purples.

I sat back in the couch and closed my eyes. I tried to push away the thoughts from my mind. Just clear my mind. Don't think of anything.

My eyes opened a few moments later when I sensed someone walking up to me. I watched Pulse take a seat next to me on the couch. In his hand was a book called ' _Traitor_ '.

"Hey," I say to him quietly.

"Hey." He responds, "What are you doing?"

I pointed at my painted GRZMOT mine. He chuckled when he saw it, "That's cute. Is it a cat?"

"It's clearly a bear!" I picked it up and gave him a closer look. He took it from my hand, carefully, and observed it for a moment.

"Ah, I see. It's a good bear." He says and hands it back over to me. I put it back on the table. There was a short silence between us.

"You really think we missed someone? I mean, that we're after Sledge, Caveria and one other person on their team?" My eyes look back down at the bottle of polish warming up in my hands.

He had is book open now. He looked like he was reading it, but he answered anyway, "I think we missed someone, yes. In a way. Mute was telling me he shot someone down in the vault of the bank the day Blitz went missing," I cringed at the mention of Blitz, but continued listening, "He said he knew he hadn't killed him. But we needed to retreat, so he didn't finish him off."

"If that guy survived, why wasn't he in the video with Sledge and Caveira?" I asked, utterly curious.

"Hmm," Pulse went to the next page of his book, "I don't know. Maybe he survived but they didn't retrieve him, or he couldn't pull back with them. He may even be dead somewhere. We didn't see him when we went back to search for Blitz. I just wanted you to know there's a possibility of a 3rd."

I quietly wondered, if this mysterious missing guy knew what his teammates did to Blitz, would he have agreed with it? Or avoided it? Maybe even avoided them? Best case scenario is that we find him dead somewhere.

Pulse put his book down on the coffee table. He sat back against the couch, just like me. It was dark outside now. I looked at him and wondered how he could remain so calm all the time. I've seen Thatcher and Mute at least get angry and sad. Pulse looked back at me. I never realized until now that his eyes were so blue. Dark blue. He and I really didn't talk much, so it felt a little awkward making eye contact and sitting side by side. I looked back out the window.

"Ela…?" I could feel him still looking at me. I looked back at him.

"Hm?"

"Why does it bother you that the doctor didn't eat with us?" Pulse isn't known for his random conversation topics…

Before I thought, my mouth was already saying words, "I don't like him avoiding me. It's not about eating with us, it's how distant he is. It's weird," I realize I sound childish. Typical, Ela…

"Some people just like to keep to themselves. It doesn't mean he hates you, if that's what you're thinking."

"I know. But he just avoids me," I sound like I'm whining. Damn it.

Pulse crosses his arms and looks out the window, "He avoids all of us. Don't take it personally. He's doing his job, and that's enough for me."

'It's not enough for me' is what I wanted to say. But he's making sense. Doc is caring for Blitz, and I am thankful for that. That's what I need to focus on. Pulse is right, but I don't need to tell him that.

I stand up and set the bottle of polish on the table, "I'm gonna go see Blitz. I haven't checked on him yet." Before I left the room I heard Pulse wish me good luck.

 **Hope you guys are enjoying the story. I'm really excited to continue this one.**

 **I'm trying new ways to space the paragraphs apart, because I can't get the spacing to work correctly with 's editing program. Sorry if it looks odd.**


	3. Chapter 3

**There is sex in this chapter, in detail. That's the only warning I got for you.**

 **Enjoy.**

 **Chapter 3:**

* * *

This morning we were off to a great start.

We made another sweep of the empty bank where Mute and Pulse said we may have missed a 3rd enemy. There was blood at the site, but no other sign of whoever we were looking for. He was even careful not to leave footprints or a trail of blood. So that was a bust.

But what we did find is Sledge.

We found him alone, just outside of the bank amongst some rubble. He had been searching. I'm not sure where Caveira was… maybe that's who he was looking for? Or was he looking for their missing partner? It doesn't matter now. When we tried to take him captive he fought tooth and nail. He got a hold of me, but as soon as he did, they opened fire on him. He fell down to the ground, nearly taking me with him. I have to admit, he had been really intimidating. He was a really big guy. But I wasn't hurt. We all would have preferred to take him alive, but none of us are sad to see him lifeless on the ground at our feet.

I was ecstatic.

* * *

We returned to base and celebrated with champagne. Doc had stayed to tend to Blitz. I was so excited about telling him the news.

I carried two glasses of the champagne with me as I headed to the medical room. Doc was there, as I suspected, and I caught him pulling the tube out of Blitz's mouth. I stood in the doorway, curious, "Doc?"

He looked up at me, a little surprised. Once the tube was out, Blitz shuddered and wheezed. I gasped and watched fearfully until Doc said, "Don't worry, it's a normal reaction. He just needed a moment to learn to breathe on his own again. It's very good news." I light up, "That's great! Is he breathing okay?" I walk up to the bed and look at Blitz, who now seems to be breathing normally.

"Yes, his breathing is fine," he removed his stethoscope and pulled his facemask down to his neck, "What's that for?" He looks at the glasses in my hand. I'm so happy to see Blitz one step closer to recovering that I nearly forgot.

"Here," I offer him a glass, "We're celebrating. Now we have to reasons to celebrate today," I smiled wide at him.

"Oh?" he reluctantly takes the glass from my hand. He looks completely uninterested in it.

"Sledge is dead," I blurt out. My adrenaline is still up from it. Doc's eyes widened, "Sledge is…? How did this happen?"

"We found him at the bank in the other city. We tried to bring him back but he fought to the death. But now we don't have to worry about him anymore. It's a huge weight off my shoulders," I take a sip of my champagne, "Oh!" I look at Doc, "Let's do cheers?" I lift my glass towards him. He doesn't move, just stares at me. He looks stunned.

"You're sure he's dead?"

I lower my glass and look at him curiously, "Yes, I'm sure… he was riddled with bullets. His heartbeat wasn't on Pulse's sensor anymore. We don't have to worry," I assure him, "It's okay."

He bit his lower lip and looked away. He looks troubled, "Doc?"

He ignores me for a moment. I just watch, at a loss.

He looks back at me, staring into my eyes with a serious, almost angry look. It's the first time he's maintained solid eye-contact with me without acting nervous. Slowly, he walks around the bed and steps up close to me until he's got me backed up against the wall. I look up at him, meekly, completely confused. He's taller than me. He's too close. I can hear him breathing. I blush, but feel a little nervous.

"Did he hurt you?" He asks with worry in his voice. His eyes don't stray from mine.

"No… none of us were hurt. Why?" He smells like latex gloves and lavender soap.

His eyes wander, looking me over. His expression was now only concern, without the hint of anger I saw just moments ago. He's blushing now. There's an anxious silence between us for what feels like forever.

"I must make sure you are all safe," he says as he steps away and turns to look down at Blitz. I see him bite his lip, nervously.

I step up beside him and look up at his face. He doesn't look at me. I can see him purposely trying not to.

"Hey, can I ask what your real name is?" I watch his face with hope.

I see him clench his jaw for a second, "It's Gustave…"

"Gustave…" His name doesn't come out as nice when I say it, "Your accent is beautiful, Gustave," I admit, honestly.

Now he looks back at me. I can see him thinking.

"Thank you…" was his response. I smile. He still looks troubled. Maybe I'm bothering him.

"If you want, you can join us. We're having a little celebration in the main room. I'll leave you alone for now." I give him a small, playful wave and head to the door, but I stop when I hear him call my name,

"Ela?"

I turn to look at him, taking another drink of my champagne.

"I am uncomfortable around the others. But I wouldn't mind your company…" He looks at me, almost with puppy eyes. He is very handsome, and I can't figure out what's bothering him so much without directly asking. I thought it was me, but…

"Let's drink together, then," I grin and hold my glass up again, "Cheers, Doc?" He smiles briefly before gently tapping his glass against mine. I take the last swig of my drink as he takes his first.

"Should I go get a bottle?" I look at my empty glass.

Immediately, he answers, "Yes."

"I think it's a good call. I'll be right back," I exit the room quickly, feeling rather giddy that Doc wanted to spend time with me. I thought for sure he hated me, or at least hated me being around him.

* * *

We had finished almost the entire bottle. We were both sat on a bench by the door of the room, talking about some of the toughest training we've gone through. He was still rather quiet for being drunk, but he was much more relaxed.

"I watched a man drown during training," He said, "We were instructed not to help him; he had to learn how to stay afloat."

"Really? But you're supposed to take care of your teammates!" I exclaimed, not sure if he was making it up or not.

"Oui, we look out for each other," his accent is thicker after lots of booze, I notice, "But eventually he was pulled out and I was instructed to revive him. It was the first time I have done CPR on a real person." He took a drink out of his bottle of water.

"Did it work?" I ask.

"Oui—yes," he corrects himself. He's been trying not to slip into his native tongue, "He coughed up water into my mouth."

I grimaced, "Not fun… but you saved him. That's amazing." He shrugs in response, "I've also lost a lot of people I was supposed to save," he says and looks down at he's fiddling with in his hands.

"You're only human. I think you're doing great here, with us," I smile at him, hoping to get one in return. I don't.

After a few minutes of silence, I ask, "Do you have a girl waiting for you at home?" I realize after the question left my mouth that he may think I'm hitting on him, but that's not what I meant!

He shakes his head no, "Do you?" He looks at me. I also shake my head and say, "No. I don't really think about it much." I always took pride in my independence. I guess I never felt like I needed a boyfriend.

"I don't either," he says, "I've always been busy with medical and military training… all of that," he scratches his neck, "and I'm sure you can tell I'm rather shy."

I chuckle, "It's cute."

"I don't think it is," he responds.

"It is!"

He smiles a little and looks at me, "What's cute about being socially awkward, hm?"

I try to think of an answer. I smile and say, "You're just cute, Gustave."

"So are you, Ela," he says softly. The mood becomes more serious now. We look at each other, wordlessly. My heart is fluttering and I can't help but look at his lips and hope he has the courage to kiss me.

I swallow nervously and put my hand on his. He looks down at it and pulls his hand away to lift it up to my face. He strokes my cheek and I feel my face heat up. And then he kisses me, soft and slow but applying a little more pressure when he realizes I won't pull away. His hand is on my neck, stroking my jaw with his thumb. My arms wrap around his neck and with his assistance I find myself straddling his lap on this uncomfortable bench.

As we sit there, gently exchanging tongues and passionate kisses, I can feel his bulge grow under me. I grind against it to encourage him, causing him to grunt into our kisses. His hands slowly feel over my sides and hips before he finds the bottom of my shirt and starts to lift it up. I stop him and break the kiss for a moment, remembering we're in the same room as Blitz, "I don't want to do this in here… My room?" He nods and we kiss again before hastily heading to my bedroom. The others had already retreated to bed so we got to my room without being spotted. I'm glad, I didn't want to explain myself in the morning…

Once we got to my room we removed all of our clothes and got under my covers to resume our kisses. When he had removed all of his clothes I was really impressed with his body. He had some small scars over his lean body, and he was big… Maybe 8 inches, and so thick that I honestly become nervous to think of him penetrating me. But I was so turned on and squirming in anticipation that I didn't care if it hurt.

He became rough after we got under the covers. He was on top of me, pinning my wrists down while we made out deeply, our tongues dancing together and our mouths panting. I moaned into his mouth as he rubbed himself against me. I was so wet and desperate for him. I wanted this to last forever, but I also wanted him to just take me.

He sat up and spread my legs wide apart, looking down at his large cock throbbing against my hot opening. I whined a little, wanting him so bad. When he reached down and thumbed at my clit I cried out and covered my mouth, afraid the other may have heard. Gustave didn't seem to care, or rather, he seemed to enjoy the response and continued thumbing over my clit rapidly. I squirmed and tried to push his hand away with my other hand but I couldn't. I was still moaning and whimpering too loud!

He leaned down over top of me again and silenced me with his mouth, shoving his tongue deep inside. I happily returned his kiss. He stopped for a minute and looked into my eyes, breathing hard, "Do you have condoms?" I shook my head no and we continued our lustful kisses and sweaty grinding. Between kisses I said, "Just… pull out, okay?" He mumbled 'oui' into my mouth and snuck his hand down between us. He rubbed his dick head hard against my clit and entrance. I squirmed, trying to get him to push inside me.

He looked into my eyes again and sat up a bit, "What do you want?"

I stared at him, flushed, "I want you to put it in?"

"Beg me, Ela," he growled. Demanding I beg him just turned me on even more. But I toyed with him, "I don't beg," I grinned at him. He wasn't amused, and instead flipped me over to my stomach and shoved a pillow under my hips. He wrenched my arm behind my back and pushed it upwards, causing me to hiss in pain, but not too much. I was enjoying being handled roughly, which is not what I ever expected I was into.

As he held my arm painfully behind my back, keeping me from struggling or rolling back over, he rubbed his dick up and down between my ass and my pussy. He was teasing me, driving me insane.

"Please…" I break. I wiggled my hips to encourage him.

"Please what?" He asks firmly.

I close my eyes tight. My pussy is needy and throbbing.

"Please fuck me, Gustave," I genuinely beg.

He responds immediately, placing his dickhead between my pussy lips and slowly pushing in. I was so wet, lube didn't even cross my mind. But the more he pushed in, the more I realized it was really going to hurt. But I need him inside me.

Once he's halfway in, he gives a hard shove, filling me up all the way to the base. I feel his balls rest against my clit as he sits there, my pussy gripping tightly on him as I adjust to his size. It hurts more than I expected and I'm clenching my teeth. He lets go of my arm and demands, "Get up on all fours." I obey, wincing as I move with him stretching me out. As soon as I'm in position, he grips my hips and starts thrusting in and out of me, slow but hard. I say 'ow' a few times, quietly, but I adjust rather quickly. Soon enough, I was in absolute Heaven and he was fucking me fast and hard, filling the room with occasional slapping sounds.

He let go of my hips and slowed his pace, leaning forward over top of me until I collapsed back down under his weight with my ass propped up by the pillow. Somehow this felt even better. I gasped in pure bliss as he fucked in and out of me steadily, weighing me down with his large body. His fingers intertwined with mine and he breathed heavily into my neck and ear. I cried out the whole time, trying my best to stay quiet, but he wouldn't let me cover my mouth. I tried biting at my sheets but it didn't help at all.

"Make those sounds for me, Ela…" His voice was so smooth and commanding. He fucked into me harder, eliciting more of those sounds from me that he was enjoying.

"You like how I feel in you?" he asks.

"Yes," I pant out, "I love it!"

He groaned and fucked into me faster. He adjusted so that we could kiss in our current position, though it was a little awkward. Throughout our make-out I moaned and cried out into his mouth and he grunted into mine, quietly.

While we kissed deeply, he moved his hand down between me and the pillow, finding my clit. He stroked over it like he had done before. It didn't take long until it drove me over the edge, making me moan long and pathetically as my pussy tightly spasmed around his dick and my body shuttered for a good minute. He continued rubbing my clit and fucking me hard. While I was still enjoying my orgasm, I could tell he was about to cum soon. He picked up his pace and fucked me roughly, pinning my head down to the bed and gripping my hair. I loved it.

I felt his large cock throb inside of me and I squeezed even tighter around him, trying to catch my breath. Suddenly I was flipped over again, onto my back, and he was straddling my chest, rapidly stroking his cock over my face.

"Open your mouth for me," he demands breathlessly. I open wide, then he adds, "And touch your breasts while I cum." My hands massaged my large, pale breasts, while my fingers teased and pulled at my nipples.

"Fuck," he breathes out, and mumbles something in French before he came hard over my face and tongue. He aimed as he jerked off so that most of it would shoot down into my throat and onto my eyes. It was hot, really thick, and tasteless, and there was so much of it. I thought he would never stop cumming.

After he was drained, he looked down at my face and admired his work. He was trying to catch his breath. Even though he had just shot his load into my mouth and over my lips, he leaned down to taste my tongue and kiss me one more time before he got out of bed and went for his clothes.

I was so relaxed and enjoying the afterglow as I watched him get dressed. I would have liked to sleep with him for the night, but I already know we've already done something bad. After he finished dressing he walked up my bed and leaned down to my face, "You're beautiful," he said softly. He placed another kiss on my lips before saying goodnight and exiting my room.

I must have fallen asleep right after.

* * *

 **More to come.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

* * *

I sat in the main room on the couch, sitting Indian-style, as I quietly ate a blueberry granola bar. Gustave hadn't made breakfast this morning. He was overwhelming my thoughts. I couldn't stop thinking about last night, how wrong I feel now, despite that I begged for him to do it. I was drunk and so was he. I guess I could leave it at that. But I can't. There was a throbbing, sore pain between my legs that nagged me. It really hurt when I woke up and it hurts when I move. My neck was sore, too. And my arm was sore from him wrenching it behind my back roughly.

What bothers me the most is how little I know about him. He was recruited to the team a couple of days after the bank fight, since our old medic had been shot to death. I've known him less than two months, and he's so secretive. I have never had an experience like I did last night. I kept myself busy and liked to do things by myself to ever give guys a chance to get so close. But for some reason, I craved him. Maybe I just needed to get laid, and the booze brought it out of me. I'm driving myself nuts trying to make sense of last night. I've never been so… submissive… Thinking about it now makes me annoyed. I don't like to consider myself a "typical" girl. I don't fall for men just like that, and I like to be in control! But I was in another world last night. Truthfully, when I think of how good he felt last night, I get goosebumps and I blush. My feelings are so mixed.

I finished my granola bar, then returned to the kitchen for a glass of water. My head hurt. It hurts between my legs when I walk, too. I feel like I was split wide open. I lean against the counter and take a drink of my water right as Mute comes up and sits down at the table.

"Hello," he says, looking at me. I respond with a nod.

"How are you today, Ela?"

I look into my water, feeling exhausted, "I'm fine."

He put his hands on the table, crossing his fingers together, looking thoughtfully at me, "Are you?"

I flash a small, fake smile at him, "Yeah. Worried about Blitz, that's all." Well, it wasn't a lie. I never stop thinking about him.

"Mm, yes, we all are. I'm worried about something else, though," his gaze doesn't break from me. I can't look into his eyes, but I feel him looking at me. I feel nervous. Does he know what happened with Doc and I? I'm being paranoid.

"What are you talking about?" I ask, taking another sip of water.

"I'm not going to dance around it. Did you sleep with somebody last night?" My heart nearly stopped. I was trying my hardest not to blush, and to keep a calm face. Before I respond, he say, "Let me rephrase: You slept with someone last night, Ela." He sounded upset.

I keep my voice calm and chuckle, "What makes you think that? I was too drunk to even stay awake."

"It was Doc, wasn't it?"

"What? Why are you saying this?" I defend myself.

"Look at me and tell me I'm wrong," he dares.

I immediately look into his eyes, but I'm a little taken aback by his angry face. I don't see it often. I look away immediately, "I didn't—"

"Ela," he interrupts, "Don't try to lie to me. You have the guiltiest face I've ever seen, and you're a terrible liar," I'm blushing now, unable to say anything. The embarrassment cripples me.

"Did he take advantage of you?" he asks more quietly.

"No," I respond, almost in a whisper. Now I've officially affirmed his accusation.

He crosses his arms and takes in a deep breath, then sighs. I feel like a kid being scolded.

"Ela, it's really none of my business, and I don't want to know anymore than I do. But… Pulse isn't fond of him. I trust Pulse. And I like you at times," I'm a little relieved to hear him being playfully dickish again. He continues, "So I recommend you don't let it go any further. Knowing you, you'll make it a point not to listen to my advice, so, at least don't let Pulse find out."

"Why doesn't he like him?" I softly ask.

He shrugs, "It's not my place to speak for him. Ask him yourself."

I feel like I can barely breathe. I'm so embarrassed, and my face is hot. Mute knows…

"Mark, how did you know?" I suddenly ask.

"You're not joking, right? I heard you. In fact, I heard you quite clearly."

I feel like I could die right there. I was so afraid I was too loud last night, and Doc wouldn't let me quiet myself. Oh god.

I hear a laugh from Mute. I look at him, offended. He continued, "I thought, at first, that perhaps you were just having… 'time to yourself', so to speak. But then I realized you were talking to someone. We were all in our rooms, so it was easy enough to figure it out,"

"Oh no… what if Pulse heard, too? What about Thatcher?" I ask, terrified.

"If they heard, they hadn't said anything to me. But I am closest to your wall. I believe Thatcher was asleep, and I doubt Pulse could have heard. Hopefully he wasn't messing about with his heartbeat sensor in your direction…" he jokes, evilly.

"Oh god! No! Don't say that!" I blurt out, genuinely worried. He laughs at me again. I turn and bend over the counter, hiding my face in my arms, mumbling, "shit!"

"By the way, Ela. We're moving base on Friday. We will actually be closer to the bank. It's a house much like this, but in a relatively decent wooded area. There's an old garden there. You'll enjoy it."

I don't move from my position. I groan, covering my head under my hands. I don't want to stand up or look at him.

After a minute of silence, Mute speaks up again, "It's awfully rude he didn't make you breakfast this morning…"

"Shut up, Mark! Just shut up." I glare at him. He actually looks amused. "It's not like that."

"Oh? I'll take your word for it, then. Don't let yourself get distracted. We still have work to do."

I look down and sigh, annoyed and tired and upset, "You sound like you're fathering me," I complain.

"I am. You still act like a child."

"You're younger than me, you know," I defensively remind him.

"Yes, but I'm still your superior. And I need you to be focused. Once we find Caveira, we'll take a break before our next mission is assigned. Who knows, perhaps some of us will get to go home." He hums, thoughtfully.

Caveira… she's the only one left. I hope I can strangle her with my own hands. I hate her.

I don't say anything as I leave the kitchen, feeling Mute's eyes follow me, but he also says nothing. Gustave avoided me more than ever the entire day. We never spoke once for the next few days, and I barely even saw him around.

* * *

It wasn't until Thursday evening, almost 3 weeks since we found Blitz, he finally woke up.

Doc had quickly gathered us into the room, where we all surrounded Blitz's bed. We were all in awe, not knowing what to say first. The first thing I did was hug him, gently, and I didn't let go. He hugged me back, weakly, with one arm. He was still too weak to sit up. I started crying immediately. The guys gave me room to continue my long embrace with him.

I heard him whimper briefly before speaking in an almost inaudible voice, "Don't cry," I was so happy and sad at the same time. I pulled away, holding his hand, and looked into his hazel eyes. His face was still wrapped up in bandages, but finally, his eyes were open and he was alive. My smile started hurting my face, it was so big.

The guys told him how glad they were to have him back. I know Blitz wanted to talk to all of us, but it was clear he was still so weak. I hope he's not still in too much pain. Doc was standing off to the side, as he didn't know Blitz as well as we do. But he was smiling.

"How do you feel, Elias?" I quietly ask Blitz and carefully squeeze his hand. His hand squeezes back.

He clears his dry throat, struggling to get out the words, "I feel happy." I chuckle, just out of joy, replying with a happy, "Good! We're happy too!"

"You're a tough son of a bitch, Elias," Pulse says, smiling. He gently pats Blitz on the shoulder.

Doc steps up to the bedside, looking over Blitz, "You're recovering well. Much better than I expected, actually. Keep resting and eating, and we'll start physical therapy asap."

"You'll be getting your exercise sooner than you know it, mate," Thatcher interjects, "Because early morning tomorrow we're heading out to our new base."

Blitz looks up at him, mumbling, "I just started to get cozy here…" We chuckle. I hope he can walk. We have a vehicle, but we will need to help him get in. We don't even have a wheelchair here. But I can't wait to see him out of this damn bed.

I stayed at his bedside until he fell asleep. Thatcher did as well, having carried on a quiet conversation with Doc for a while about their past medical experience. It was a casual, friendly conversation. It was nice to see Doc talking to him like that, like they were good friends. Off and on, we would make eye-contact and feel a mutual awkwardness, but would smile at each other and look away. I kept Blitz's hand warm between my two hands and watched him sleep peacefully, feeling unspeakably glad to know he'll be awake again in the morning.


	5. Chapter 5

**Warnings: some fluff, some depressing things, and some Doc things.**

 **Chapter 5:**

* * *

We had settled into our new base pretty quickly.

Doc used the basement as our designated medical room, getting all of his supplies in and his equipment set up. He and Thatcher decided they'd share a room. Pulse and Mute would share a room, and I would share the last room with Blitz. The downside to this place is that we would all be sharing the bed in each of our rooms. I didn't mind snuggling with Blitz, since we were best friends, and he was really much like a brother to me, but imaging the boys having to bundle up together amused me. Especially since Mute hated physical contact, for the most part. But at least he and Pulse got along well.

We were given extra security around our base perimeter, which was great. With Blitz alive, and awake, and Sledge off our hit-list, I've felt much more energetic and much less stressed and anxious. I never stopped feeling eager to kill Caveira, though. I thought about it constantly.

Blitz rested in bed once we assigned rooms. He was still wrapped up in bandages all over, and I was beginning to wonder if it was necessary after this long. Shouldn't he be pretty much healed by now? I let him sleep, pulling the blankets up a bit further over him. I didn't really need to, though. The sun was shining through the window, and the weather was mild with a cool, soft breeze. It was really beautiful, actually.

I went to visit Doc down in the basement, to see if he needed any help. It looked like he had already gotten himself situated, and declined my help. It looked really professional. I felt like I was in an office building. It was one giant, open room. The carpet was clean and a dull gray. There were matching leather couches and chairs, all brown and a little worn, but looked nice. There was a large computer desk with Doc's laptop and random junk on top. A large globe was in one corner of the room, near the bottom of the stair way, and there was a large piano and grandfather clock in the farthest corner from the stairs. Even the curtains on the low-seated ground windows were lovely and professional-looking somehow.

"It looks nice down here. Feels like I'm in a therapist office or something," I said to Doc as I looked around, admiring, getting used to the smells of the new house. It smelled like roses and old dust. I imagined an old lady or man living here, having brought in roses from the garden in the back of the house often, and playing on the piano. But really, I didn't know who previously lived here. It was just a cute thought.

Doc was sorting through a box while in conversation with me, "Have you been to a therapist, Ela?"

"Yeah," I sigh. I didn't like talking about it, but then he asked, "Did you learn anything about yourself?"

I stepped up closer to him to see what he was rummaging through in the box on his new desk, answering, "Nope. She told me what I already knew: I have issues and I need to work on them." There were records in the box that he was thumbing through. I had never seen any old-school records in person before.

"Hm," he starts, getting briefly distracted by a particular record before pulling it out and setting it to the side. He continues flipping through the records in the box, "Therapists can be pretty useful if you give them a chance,"

"It was a waste of time," I said, a little annoyed, deciding to change the subject before he could say anything more about it, "You listen to those old records?"

"Oui." He was very focused on going through them. There were so many in that box.

"What about listening to music on your computer or phone?" I tilted my head, looking to the side at his face as I stood right next to him.

He pulled out another record, setting it on top of a small stack of others he had removed, "It's not the same. Have you ever heard of the Ink Spots?" He holds up a large, square cover, sliding the shining black disk out of its sheath, it carefully in his hands with the mentioned band name on the center of it. He looks at me, finally.

I shake my head, "Doesn't sound familiar at all to me." He smiles a little, amused, "How old are you, Ela?"

"I just turned 32 not too long ago," I answer, now curious about his, "What about you?"

"38. I suppose records like these were a little too early for both of us, but I rather enjoy listening to them. Would you like to hear one of my favorite songs?" He heads to the record player that sits on a small table, on top of a doily, and sits under one of the big basement windows.

"I'd love to," I smile, genuinely eager to listen to something Gustave dearly enjoys.

Once he puts the needle down on the spinning disk, it begins with a static noise. The song starts playing soon, starting with a simple string instrument and piano, before a strong, but soft voice starts somberly singing, "It's all over, but the crying…"

The song is soft, gentle, and slow-paced. It sounds a little sad. I can't figure out why anyone would still listen to records anymore, because as it plays, the audio still sounds a little rough and muffled. But Doc is sitting on the arm of one of the leather couches, listening quietly with a content expression, and it makes my heart warm.

I sat on the couch, next to him, his back facing me. I stay silent to be polite so he can hear it. The melody picks up a little halfway through, sounding a little bit less depressing. I don't feel the same enjoyment for it that he does, but by the end of the song he has moved down next to me, so I made room to let him sit by my side on the couch.

The record continued playing, the music never being too loud to talk.

"What do you think?" He asks. I laugh a little, "It's not very good," I admit. He lets out a small chuckle, "You're making me feel old, Ela. But I appreciate your honesty." We look at each other, smiling. I feel his warm, soft hand snake into mine and weave our fingers together. We give each other's hand a small, loving squeeze, and I'm blushing. He seems much more confident with me when I catch him at the right time, but still acts avoidant most of the time.

"I'm really fond of you," He says softly. He's no longer smiling, but his expression is gentle. I my heart races at his words, but before I could say anything, Mute comes into view, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. He's wearing his usually boots and dark military pants, with a solid-gray t-shirt on, fitting attractively on his lean body. His light-brown, almost dark blonde, hair is subtly wavy and is getting long, it almost covers his eyes. His slate-blue eyes are looking at us – mostly me – with scorn. He looked like he was stopped dead in his tracks when he saw us. We quickly stood up and away from each other, Doc going to his desk and straightening out the mess on his desk. He avoided looking at Mute.

"What's up?" I said innocently, walking up to Mute. He straightened his posture, looking down into my eyes, "I need to talk to you in private," he says firmly before heading back upstairs. I take in a small breath and sigh. I don't want him thinking Doc and I are a 'thing'. It wasn't like that. Doc and I exchanged a glance and a smile before I followed after Mute.

O

O

O

He led me outside to the back, in the garden. It was fenced in, and there were trees all around the fence, essentially keeping the entire backyard and garden secret from the rest of the world. The garden hadn't been tended to for a while, and was, in fact, largely in terrible shape.

We sat down on the edge of the back patio. I sat Indian-style, as always. Mute had his feet planted on the dirt under him, and his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together, looking down at the ground in thought. He didn't seem angry, but I couldn't read him.

"Doc and I aren't…" I started, fumbling my words at first, "I mean, we're not… serious. It's not what you think," I look down at the dirt and grass beneath me.

He closes his eyes and shakes his head, "I don't think about it at all. It's none of my business, Ela. That's not why I wanted to talk to you." His eyes open back up, looking over the broken garden. He usually makes consistent eye-contact when he talks to people, so it's really strange that he's avoiding to with me right now.

"What is it?" I ask, a little worried about him. I grip at the edge of the patio under my knees.

"My girlfriend is pregnant, Ela," he answers in a breathless voice. My eyes widen. He looks at me with shock, and even sadness, in his eyes. I've never seen it before. He was even able to keep a straight face when we watched the footage of Blitz, Sledge, and Cav.

I'm smiling wide at first. He must be so nervous, since he's going to be a new dad. That's why he looks so upset. I want to congratulate him, and even hug him, telling him that's great news. But then my heart sinks down into my stomach heavily, and my smile quickly dissolves, as the reality hits me:

He didn't get her pregnant. He's been away from her too long for it to be possible.

She cheated on him. She's having another man's baby.

I feel devastated for him, and angry for him. Mostly, I feel so… sad.

The wind rustles the leaves in the trees as I struggle to think of what to say or do.

"I'm sorry," he says after the long silence, "You know I hate sharing my personal life with others. I don't know what I was thinking." He closed his eyes, his head hanging down.

I wanted to lay a comforting hand on him, or embrace him, but I know he hates physical contact. He's comforted me before, but it's rare, and I think he's only accepting if he's the one that initiates it.

"When did you find out?" I ask, unable to think of anything else, and honestly curious.

He's unmoving, eyes still shut, "This morning, before we left. She wrote me a letter, a painfully long letter, apologizing profusely, but begging me to let her keep it," He always spoke so clear and proper, but his voice was weakening and breaking up.

"I don't think I want to, Ela." He adds, sounding scared. His eyes meet mine again, but now they're glimmering with tears not yet broken, and they're filled with anger and fear.

I can't stop myself, and I don't really think about it, when I place my hand on his back and firmly rub it. He's shivering a little.

I'm trying to sound strong and supportive, but I'm at a loss, "Mark, you don't have to think about that right now…"

He doesn't react to my touch, but responds, "I can't wait too long to decide. Is it even my place to make the choice?"

I exhale, softly replying, "Of course you have a choice. She's your girlfriend, you're in this together, right?" Am I saying the right thing? Damn it, I don't know the right words.

"Fuck!" he shouts, startling me. His eyes are now shut, and his tears are falling. He grabs his head, his voice going quiet again, "I don't think I can stay with her after this. I don't want to forgive her, and I don't want any part of deciding if she keeps the damn baby or not. It's not even mine," he growls.

Mark loves kids. On our tours together, he always loved playing with the local kids, and teaching them things, anything from writing and reading to playing football. I know he's got a soft spot for them, so the idea of terminating a pregnancy would be extremely hard for him, especially when he's in the position to father it.

I move to stand right in front him and put my hands on his strong shoulders. He looks up at me with the saddest eyes I've ever seen, as they continue to leak droplets of tears down his cheeks. I lean down and hug him around his neck, laying my head on top of his hair, and I don't let go. I scratch his back repetitively, trying to calm him. I'm silently crying too, and I feel so pissed off that his girl could do this to him. Mute has been a great friend of mine for a long time. I can't imagine anyone hurting him this way.

After a little while, once he's stopped crying and is left sniffling, but now a little more calm, he gently removes my arms from his neck and I pull away, taking my seat back next to him, close to him this time.

"Thank you, Ela…" he says, wiping his eyes with his hands, "Please don't concern yourself with this. I'll figure it out. I apologize I put this on you," he looks at me, his eyes red and swollen, and his cheeks red. I never imagined I'd see him like this.

"I'm not worried, Mark. You're one of the smartest people I know, and one of the strongest. I'm so sorry for this, Mark… but I'm really glad you trust me enough to tell me all of this." I give a small smile, my eyes still filled with concern.

He clears his throat, sniffling again, "It isn't about trusting you, Ela. It's just that you're the only one lame enough to care about what I'm going through. No one else would sit through my depressing ramblings," he jokes, though the energy behind it is weak. My smile got a little wider.

"You're starting to joke around almost as much as Blitz," I chuckle. He chuckles a little, too, "I'm completely serious, though. At all times," I exaggerate with I roll my eyes and push him, playfully. He giggles a little big, something I've never heard. I know he's still in so much pain, and he will be for a long time, but for now, we laugh and recover from the tears.

O

O

O

I woke up in the middle of the night, around 1a.m. After using the bathroom, I couldn't get back to sleep. My restlessness was irritating me. I made my way to the kitchen and got myself a glass of water. I was in a comfy black t-shirt and gray-and-purple plaid pajama bottoms that were slightly too long for me. I didn't even bother turning any lights on in the place. The moon was bright enough for me to carefully navigate around, and I was hoping being in the dark would sort of lull me back into being tired again.

I stood at the sink for a while until I finished my glass of water. I set it to the side and looked off into the darkness of the house, crossing my arms. I was much too restless to stand around and do nothing, I decided. After putting on my dark-green GROM hoodie, I went out to the back to see the garden, although it was only barely illuminated by the full-moon.

I noticed right away that someone was standing on the patio, where Mute and I had sat earlier, and he was talking on the phone, quietly. I slinked back, peaking around the corner. I watched him until I realized it was Doc. He was in his dark-blue GIGN pants and black boots, with a plain black hoodie on, but not up. He was facing away from me. Once I realized it was him, I approached him, quietly, not wanting to startle him. That could be dangerous.

I hear him speaking into the phone now.

"…no, he's dead. I told you this." His next words are spoken in what sounds like… Portuguese? I'm not sure, but I can't understand it, whatever it is. I stand still behind him, listening, but I'm not sure why.

"He's at the bank, waiting for you." He pauses as the person on the other end talks to him. I can't hear them at all.

"Better. He's good enough to assist you now. But, I may have to renegotiate with you," he pauses again for a moment, his body language giving off that he's uncomfortable, perhaps even nervous.

"I know… But I can't find the right opportunity to do it…"

…..

"No, it's not that—"

He shuffles on his feet, another pause.

"Doc…?" I speak up, delicately.

He turns to me, startled. He hung up his phone, trying to seem calm now, but acting anything but.

"Ela, did you have issues sleeping?" he asks kindly, and nervously.

I eye him, cautiously, "Who was that?"

He stays quiet, looking deep into my eyes. The moonlight is shining over both our face.

"Doc? Answer me." I threaten.

"Don't act so serious. It's none of your concern. I'm heading to bed now. You should get some rest as well."

"No, tell me who that was, what exactly that was about," I'm getting angry, and scared, "Who's at what bank? What kind of negotiation do you have, and with whom? Answer me, Gustave."

He runs his hands through his hair and looks away, looking increasingly agitated, but not responding to me.

"I can't let you back in," I tell him.

"You're being ridiculous," he growls.

"What are you hiding?" I shout. He looks worried, like the others may wake up.

"Please be quiet…" he says.

I get up close to him, my voice loud, "Why? You don't want to the others finding out your hiding something from us?"

"Ela, stop…" he quietly, but firmly demands.

I dropped down and delivered a quick, smooth kick to his legs, bringing him down instantly. I jumped on him, grabbing his arm and forcing him on his stomach as I wrenched his arm up high and hard behind his back, causing him to cry out in pain, though he forced himself to do it as quiet as possible.

I straddle him, holding him place with his arm, using my other hand to hold his face hard into the wooded patio floor by his hair.

"Tell me, Gustave! Who are you?!"

I feel furiously protective of my teammates, and refuse to let him go back inside. He says nothing.

Mute, Thatcher, and Pulse run up to us and take him into their own hands. Mute and Pulse aimed their SMGs at him while Thatcher, also with a holstered gun, had zipties in his hands and quickly bound up Doc's wrists behind his back, his knee holding Doc's head down, while my knee was firmly dug into his back. I couldn't believe what was happening. I didn't even know what was happening, but I'm furious and my heart is racing.

"Ela, are you alright?" Thatcher asks, securing the last zip-tie.

"I'm fine, I just…"

"What's going on, Ela?" Pulse asks, gun still pointed directly at Gustave's head.

I don't even know what's going on, myself.

"He won't talk to me. He was on the phone, saying questionable things," I looked up at Thatcher, my breath caught, as I was hit by a sudden realization, "He was speaking Portuguese…"

"Caveira…" Pulse curses under his breath.

"Shit!" Thatcher groaned out. He and I both stood up, dragging Doc up to stand as well, and held him by the front of his hoodie. Thatcher's pale, green eyes glared coldly into Doc's brown eyes, "You're gonna talk, mate," he darkly warns him. We grab at him and roughly lead him back into the house, the other two following close behind with their guns at his back.

O

O

O

 **More to come.**


	6. Chapter 6

**WARNING**

 **torture, blood.**

 **Chapter 6**

* * *

Gustave was sat on the couch in the main room with his hands securely zip-tied together behind his back, and his ankles zip-tied together. We were all still dressed more appropriately for bedtime, all of us outside of our tactical gear except for our firearms.

The traitorous medic wouldn't look at us. His eyes were glued to the floor as we contemplated what to do with him first. But Thatcher took control of the situation, seeming to have quite a bit of experience with interrogations. He was really scary when he got down to business.

The older SAS operative, in just his military pants, boots and black tank-top, was standing in front of the guilty Frenchman that refused to pay him any attention. Even though Thatcher was an older man, and kind of on the short side, his body was in excellent shape and his mind was sharp and wise. He looked much younger for his age. Overall, seeing him serious about extracting information out of the doctor reminded me how intimidating the Brit really was.

Mute, Pulse and I had our guns lowered, but ready, as we watched Thatcher do his thing.

"I'm not wastin' my time with ya, ya traitorous cunt. Start telling us what you're up ta, and who you're conspiring with, before I go straight ta hurtin' ya,"

He punched him hard across the face, without even giving him an opportunity to speak. Then he grabbed Doc by his short dark hair and forced him to look him in the eye. Gustave's nose bled.

"And keep in mind, I won't be nice enough ta kill ya," The angry Brit shoved the man's head away and stood up straight again, glaring down at him. Doc was still looking up at him, looking defensive.

"Get to it, then!" Thatcher shouted and kicked Doc's knee hard, causing the younger man to briefly yelp.

Gustave's breathing was heavy. His adrenaline was high. He looked over at me, which got him another kick from Thatcher.

"Don't look at her! You're talkin' to me, ya bloody coward," the SAS man pulled out his knife. He always carried it on him, even when he slept.

"I will only talk to Ela," Gustave said. I cringed as soon as the words left his mouth, because I knew Thatcher wasn't going to like that.

The impatient Englishman gave a fluid, skillful twirl of his blade, making the bound GIGN visibly more nervous, which I think was the purpose of the gesture. Thatcher had told us about several horrifying interrogations he had done, and he said he favored knives.

I'm furious with Doc, but I'm also not sure if I'm ready to see Thatcher carve him up in front of me.

"You're wasting my time. I don't like that," he says, his voice dangerous and low.

Mike leaned down to grab Gustave's hair again and placed the tip of his blade under his chin. His face was close to Doc's.

"Ya know very well what happened to our mate Elias. For all I know, you were a part of it,"

Doc interrupted hastily, "Non, I wasn't ther—"

The blade pierced the soft skin where his chin and neck met, not all the way, but enough to draw blood and shut him up for the moment.

"You're workin' with 'em! What happened to Blitz is on your shoulders just as much as theirs. Now, remember how bloody he was when we brought him to ya. Remember his mutilated face?"

Thatcher's words were haunting and threatening. No one in the room thought for a second he wasn't seriously going to torture Doc. The rest of us were watching the windows and doors, which were all closed with the blinds down, just in case Doc's friends decided to show up after his interrupted phone call.

He kept the tip of his blade in Doc's skin, the blood trailing down onto his hand.

"I'm not asking again," he growled.

I got a chill. I never heard such coldness in Thatcher's voice. Mute and Pulse looked completely unsurprised. They were used to it.

Doc struggled to speak with the knife under his lower jaw, but he forced himself to answer, "I was not part of his torture,"

"Are you fuckin' with me, cunt? That's not what I was askin' ya,"

"It's not, I'm not trying to—"

Thatcher stood up, pulling his blade away and removing his fingers from the doctor's hair, "Shut up. Since ya didn't want to answer me all the times I've given ya, I'm gonna have a little fun with ya first,"

"I will explain!" Gustave was scared. As he should be.

"You should have, mate," Mike drawled before looking over to me, "Ela, leave the room if you're squeamish,"

All of them looked at me. I felt a little insulted.

"I'm fine," I defended. I wasn't completely confident in my answer, though.

As soon as he gave me a shrug, he grabbed Gustave's head again and shoved his knife into his ear, causing the Frenchman to scream loud.

Thatcher kept true to his words. He didn't kill him, he just went in deep enough to pierce his eardrum. I remember having a burst eardrum when I was little. It was incredibly painful. I can't even imagine the feel of a blade going into it.

He pulled his knife out and stabbed it back into the same spot with perfect accuracy, eliciting another agonizing scream from Doc.

"That feels good, doesn't it?" Thatcher teased, removing his knife again.

He wiped the blood off of both sides of his knife with Gustave's face.

Afterwards, he stabbed the knife into the outer side of Doc's thigh on the same side as his injured ear. Again, Doc screamed in pain. And he didn't stop as Thatcher wrenched it around roughly.

Over Doc's loud pained sounds, Thatcher spoke, "Ya know this is one of my favorite pressure points?"

He continued jabbing it in, deeper, "Because if I hit this one just right, you're not gonna walk again,"

I cringed as I watched. There was blood pouring out of Gustave's ear, down his neck, and seeping into his black pull-over hoodie. Now his leg was bleeding all over, but not enough to make him bleed to death.

"I could sever your spine, but unfortunately, I need your mouth to work. Fuckin' pity, that,"

Doc struggled to catch up on his breath, trying to refrain from yelling anymore, "Please, I'll explain!"

"Then do it!" Thatcher snapped at him, yanking his knife out.

Doc panted heavily and quickly, trying to get some air before he explained. Thatcher wasn't having it. He grabbed Doc and threw him to the floor, hard, making his nose bleed more. The strong British man had his knee in the middle of Doc's back as he lie there helpless on his stomach.

It surprised me when Thatcher cut Gustave's hands free. Again, Mute and Pulse didn't seem fazed. They were watching like it was a movie they'd already seen. It made me uncomfortable.

"Put your hands out ahead of you," Thatcher commanded. Doc obeyed hastily, putting his hands out on the floor in front of him like he was Superman.

Mike grabbed onto one of the wrists, pinning it there. Before I knew it, he slammed his knife down onto Doc's hand, using the butt of it to break his hand instantly. I even heard the familiar sound of bone crunching.

Gustave struggled desperately under Thatcher's weight, screaming, "Please don't!"

Doc was only able to retract one of his hands to hide it under himself from the cruel SAS operator, but Thatcher yelled at him, "Put yer hand back out, ya fuckin' cunt! Get it back out in front of ya!"

Every time Mike angrily shouted, it gave me frightened chills. He was just… I always knew he was serious business, but I've never seen him this intense.

Doc was crying now as he reluctantly pushed his good hand back out next to the broken one. He was shaking.

"Don't move," was all Thatcher said before he broke Doc's other hand the same way. Pained screams filled the old house again.

Thatcher stood up and looked down at the injured man at his feet, who was holding his broken hands gingerly against himself as he curled up on his side, sobbing.

"Pathetic!"

Mike, being the only one of us wearing his boots, stomped Gustave's head into the floor, right onto his bleeding ear.

It wasn't as hard as he could have done, but the sound it made still turned my stomach. He hadn't killed Doc, but now he was drifting in and out of consciousness.

Mike pushed the beaten man over onto his back with his foot and looked down at him, "I haven't even started yet. Don't you pass out on me, traitor,"

"You've been working with Caveira?" He plants his foot on one of Doc's hands that was lying next to him. He's too weak to pull it away.

"Yes," Doc sputtered, coughing. Some blood dribbled down the side of his mouth.

"Who else?"

Doc mumbled something incoherent, but the word 'Kapkan' was easily heard.

"Kapkan? Are they coming here?"

"I don't… I don't… know…" Gustave was struggling to stay in reality, but he shouted out when Thatcher crushed his already-broken hand under his boot.

"Where are they?!"

I couldn't believe, despite how much I hate Doc right now, that a piece of my heart hurts for him. He hadn't been the most perfect guy, but we… I mean, we were getting to know each other. He was becoming more and more friendly. We even… I can't believe we had sex!

I thought it could be something, but thinking about it now… was he just using it to get closer to me? So he could kill me, and my teammates?

It really didn't feel like he had bad intentions when we were together, but I know better than to let my feelings blind my logic. Still, I have mixed emotions I can't reason with.

"Bank, bank," the injured Frenchman mumbled desperately.

"Are they expecting us?" Thatcher asks, suspicious, not letting up on Doc's hand. Doc was writhing, trying not to tug his hand away lest it caused him more pain.

"Yes…"

"When?"

"We had not…" he groaned, "…had not made a time yet,"

Thatcher kicked him hard in the stomach, causing him to cough and wheeze as he tried gripping his stomach with his disabled hands.

"Are you fuckin' with me?!"

Doc shook his head profusely, unable to speak.

Mike's hateful gaze never left Doc's battered body, "Alright mates, gear up. We're going to the bank,"

We headed off to our rooms to get ready quickly. As I hastily went to my bedroom I heard another pained noise come from Doc. I assumed Thatcher had kicked him in the stomach again. An illogical sadness swelled up in my stomach. It must be pity…

* * *

 **Short chapter this time. Longer chapter next time.**

 **Thanks for reading.**


	7. Chapter 7

**The first part of this chapter is still in Ela's p.o.v., but the rest of it will be from Blitz's p.o.v. There will be a note telling you when that starts. After this chapter, it'll be back to Ela.**

 **Thanks for continuing to read.**

 **Chapter 7**

* * *

At Thatcher's command, we all went to our rooms to get geared up. After a few more beatings to the already battered-and-bloodied doctor in the main room, he also went to his room to get prepared.

Blitz was now wide awake in our shared bed. He was sitting up, alert. His face is still wrapped up.

"What is happening?"

I look at him with a small sigh, "Doc… he's been working against us. We're heading out to find Caveira and another OPFOR,"

I hastily changed into my tactical uniform and gear as I caught him up on the situation. But I stopped when I saw Blitz pull the covers off of himself, moving to leave the bed.

"No, no," I grab his shoulders as his feet touch the floor. He looks up at me.

"Ela, I can help," he pleads.

"Blitz," I try not to sound so mean, but, "I'm sorry, but you can barely even walk! You were in a coma for a while,"

He removes my hands from him and pushes himself up to his feet with a wobble, but manages to balance himself and stand up straight.

He looks at me, almost a sad look in his eyes, but he doesn't say anything. Instead, he sighs.

"I know I'm not in any shape to fight," he goes on in his soft German accent, "But I vant to help,"

"You can," I smile, "Someone has to watch the medic,"

He returns a small smile, "I've been demoted to babysitter?"

I put the last piece of equipment on, my headset around my neck, and give a small laugh at Blitz.

"I don't even know what to say to that, Elias,"

He chuckles, then returns to a serious tone, "I assume he is tied up?"

I nod.

"Follow me," I wave to him as I exit our bedroom and lead him to the livingroom.

We meet the others in the main room, everyone antsy and ready to go. Doc is unconscious with small puddles and spatters of blood all over him and underneath him on the floor. His wrists were zip-tied behind him again. If I couldn't see his chest slightly heaving, and hear his ragged breath, I would have thought I was looking at a corpse.

Blitz looked down at the bloodied man, "I see he got the SAS treatment…"

Mute cleared his throat before speaking beneath his gas-mask, "Blitz, you know I am not as brutish as this. This is uniquely the "Thatcher treatment,"

"I'm happy ta take the credit, mate," Thatcher proudly stated, wearing his gas-mask as well.

"So," Pulse started, looking at Blitz, "You know I don't mean to baby you, but you're gonna have to stay here,"

Blitz nods and looks at him, "I know. I can keep watch here,"

"Good idea," Pulse responds.

"How's your pain level?" Mute asks.

Blitz responds, "I'm still in a lot of pain, but nothing I can't handle. I'm sure I can find some morphine in Doc's belongings if needed,"

Mute gives a small chuckle and nods.

Thatcher scrolled through his phone. I remember how much he complained when he got a touch-screen phone, but now he uses it like a pro.

"We're headed to the bank. Before the bloody bastard passed out on me, he told me this mystery OPFOR 'Kapkan' will have undoubtedly set up traps around the building. He did not go into detail on what kind of traps they are, so we need ta be exceptionally cautious,"

We nod in unison.

The senior SAS operative looks at Blitz, "You didn't happen ta hear anything about this person when you were held hostage, did ya?"

"No. They mentioned they had a 3rd member, but they had talked as if they didn't know where he was, or if he was even alive,"

Thatcher nodded, then continued, while tapping at his phone, "Of course, we expect Caveira to be there as well. So, in conclusion: watch your fuckin' back," he put his phone in his pocket, "We'll go in together, and we'll take it slow. Let's go,"

Blitz and the rest of us wished each other good luck before we headed out to the vehicle. My adrenaline was already flooding through my body.

O

O

O

 **Blitz's p.o.v.**

I was left in an uncomfortable silence, alone with the beaten medic I barely knew. As I looked down at him lying there unresponsive, it was hard to believe he was the one who took care of me. He saved my life. But all this time, he was the enemy. It filled me with anger, mostly from knowing he could have gotten my teammates injured, killed, or taken hostage like I was.

After sitting on the couch for only a few minutes, making sure to avoid the blood-stained cushions, the doctor began gently moaning and coughing. He was slowly but barely moving. He was waking up.

Since he was on his side, facing me, I watched his eyes open and look into mine. My hazel eyes held no pity for him, while his dark-brown eyes were exhausted and red.

"Good morning, doctor," I joked.

He licked some of the blood that had streamed down over his lips from his nose. We looked at each-other wordlessly for a while.

After the long silence, he weakly began to speak, his voice soft, "I didn't want to 'urt any of you…"

I said nothing, curious for him to continue with his vain excuses.

He swallowed hard, "I could 'ave killed you all… I was supposed to, but I refused,"

"Why vould you refuse?"

"I am not a killer,"

"But you work for killers, and you said you were supposed to kill us. I am not convinced," I'm glaring at him, challenging him to explain himself out of this hole he's dug.

"I took the 'ypocratic Oath, I would never—"

"Your oath means nothing in a war-zone, Doc,"

He sighs, straining to find the energy to continue speaking. But he does.

"Right… okay, you're right… What I mean to say is,"

He's panting a little bit and it's visibly obvious to see it's painful for him to move or vocalize.

"Zey 'ired me to infiltrate your squad and relay information. We 'ad not agreed for me to physically 'arm any of you,"

"If this is true, what do you benefit from them?"

The look in his eyes changed. He looked at me with genuine horror, "Ze safety of my patients,"

"Your patients?"

He takes a moment to catch his breath again, "Oui, I work in a small 'ospital outside of ze evacuation perimeter. Zey must 'ave followed me 'ome after work and came into my 'ome. Ze woman, Caveira… she 'eld me at gunpoint and told me if I did not cooperate zey would blow up explosives inside ze 'ospital…"

Tears were leaking from his eyes, joining the bloodstains under his head.

"Why vould they ask you instead of another doctor? It is too much of a coincidence,"

"I am ze only medical personnel in ze 'ospital zat 'as a 'istory of military and police training. I believe zat's why,"

"Nobody noticed you missing? What about your family, roommates?"

He paused before answering, "I live alone… But ze 'ospital must know. I'm sure zey 'ave reported it,"

I sat there in contemplative silence. If what he's saying is true, I can confirm it with a phonecall.

And, if what he's telling me is true, either Caveira has destroyed the hospital by now, as she promised, or she was lying all along. I don't need to tell him this. I'm sure he's already aware of it.

"You have police training…" I start, "The GIGN have a very good track-record of anti-terrorism. So you should have known better than to comply with Caveira,"

"I know zis… I did not want ze patients to be in danger… all of our patients are children…"

I was taken back, "You work at a children's hospital?"

"Oui. It is much 'arder to resist terrorist demands when zey are threatening young children,"

I could empathize with him on that.

"Can you tell me about Kapkan?"

"Kapkan is a Russian Spetsnaz officer… I told ze Brit about 'im,"

"Yes, but what do you know about his traps?"

"I don't know what zey are or 'ow zey work. Caveira only told me 'e utilizes traps. Since I could not kill any of you myself, I was ordered to trick your teammates into rushing into ze building where, as she said to me, 'Kapkan's traps should stop some of zem'. Zen she assured me she would kill ze rest,"

"You could have let me die and my teammates never would have known it was intentional," I think aloud.

He watches my face for a moment before responding, "Oui. I love my work. I am a doctor above everysing else. I would try my best to save you, especially for Ela,"

"What do you mean?"

"She cares very much about you. I couldn't bear to see 'er cry and beg me to keep you alive,"

"You came into this situation knowing we would die. You wouldn't care about her feelings,"

He closed his eyes and sighed.

"Zat is correct, but I do care about 'er. I am still a doctor, I still felt obligated and determined to save you,"

"You have feelings for her?" I ask bluntly.

The look he gave me made me think he was nervous about answering. Which, in itself, answered my question.

I continued, "You're kidding me!"

"It just—"

"Does she know?" I interrupt.

This is completely ridiculous.

"Oui,"

"Das ist schlect (this is bad)…" I mutter and shake my head.

I knelt down to help him sit up against the wall by the couch. I stayed crouched in front of him, looking into his eyes firmly, "You fell for a woman that you may have potentially gotten killed tonight,"

The young doctor watched me with watery-red eyes, horrified by the truth, speechless.

I continued, "I wish you had not made your romantic feelings clear to her. The ones you work for have ruined my body, and I am terrified to see these bandages come off of my face. My body is broken and ugly. It is ruined. I'm in so much pain and I don't know how I will be able to enjoy life after this is all over. I don't know if I want to be alive anymore,"

I was glaring at him, feeling increasingly angry and defensive of my sister-like teammate Ela, and simultaneously reminding myself how scared I am of my own fate.

"That is what you have done to her heart and mind. But there are no bandages or painkillers for broken trust," I finish before standing up.

Doc is staring off, in shock.

I left him alone for a moment, but he was in my sight as I went to get us both a glass of water from the kitchen.

When I returned to him, I knelt down before him again and helped him drink his water, but he turned his head in refusal. I set his glass on a small table beside us at the end of the couch.

"I am not unsympathetic to you, if you indeed agreed to work for them to save the children in the hospital. But I am not in a position to feel sorry for you or forgive you for putting my friends in danger,"

He nods, being unable to make eye-contact with me again. He's pale. All of his bleeding has stopped.

"Since you are a doctor, do you have to write a prescription for my painkillers, or can you just tell me where they are?"

He looks at me, a little confused at my oddly-timed sarcasm.

"Zere is morphine and syringes in ze basement. Zey are in a white, square container in ze large drawer of my desk…"

"Wunderbar," I say unenergetically before I go to the basement in search of the medication. My body is in so much blinding pain that my trip to the basement and back was rather slow and very exhausting.

Once I had gotten some of the wonderful liquid into my system, having learned from past essential medical training how much to safely use, I sat back on the couch near where Doc still sat on the floor. Both of us were tired and sore. I did not share the pain-numbing liquid with him.

We sat there for another long silence. My mind was racing with gut-wrenching thoughts. I was afraid for my team. I desperately wished I could go help them. It even entered my mind to gear up and head out to the bank, but I knew that would be foolish. On top of all of these worries, I couldn't help but feel nearly petrified by my damaged body. I am not a vain person, but I know that after what I endured, I was going to be disfigured for life. I know it's bad. I'm scared to remove the bandages from my face, but at the same time, I feel compelled. I will have to come to terms with it eventually.

"How bad is it?" I ask Doc without tearing my staring eyes off of the floor.

"Hm?"

"My face,"

"… It's…" he sighs, "The damage is severe. I tried my best,"

I look at his eyes briefly. His expression looks apologetic.

I stand up, feeling delightfully numb from the morphine. It didn't hurt so much to move around now, though there was always a dull soreness all over my body.

I went to the bathroom. I wasn't worried about leaving the doctor alone for a few moments while I tended to my needs.

After using the restroom and washing my hands, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I resembled a mummy. The bandages were nice and clean, but all I could see was my light-brown hair, my eyes, and my mouth. There was a hole under my nostrils so I could breathe.

I was so terrified to see myself without the bandages.

Shakily, I pulled up a pair of scissors and began cutting upwards at the side of my face, snipping carefully through the layered white cloth and gauze.

Once I had made a full cut through, I was able to peel away the mask, removing all of it from my head and face. I had my eyes shut tight, feeling my sweaty face exposed to the cool, fresh air. The bundle of bandages were now in the sink. I struggled to find the courage to open my eyes.

After giving a careful peek of one eye, my eyes widened at the sight in the mirror. The blood left my face and I was in danger of fainting. I was in disbelief as my eyes instantly filled with warm tears.

I was almost unrecognizable.

My entire face was crowded with deep gashes that had scarred over in glossy, raised lumps. Many of the deeper cuts – though they were all very deep – were still scabbed over, trying to heal. There was no area of my face that had not been carved up. It was not an exaggeration. The scars crossed over one another, diagonal, horizontal, vertical; there was no rhyme or reason to the pattern. It was as if I had been repeatedly smashed in the face with handfuls of broken glass.

I lifted my chin up to see the large scab under my chin. It was partially healed and scared, but since the knife that had went up into my chin went deep enough to pierce my tongue, it hadn't been able to fully heal yet. But it was already another large, awful scar.

I was devastated. I'm sickened by my own reflection.

Before I knew it, I was throwing up in the toilet.

Part of me thought I could tolerate it and accept it. I've been through a lot. But Sledge and Caveira have traumatized me severely in every way.

As I sat on my feet, resting my arms and head on the toilet seat, I felt utterly lifeless. My wrists had scars from rope burns. My knee is in pain, even with the morphine, and it is also scarred. There are wounds all over my body that have healed into visible, permanent reminders of my torture. My genitals are intact, but I can't even entertain the idea of any kind of sexual encounters ever again without feeling crippling anxiety at the mere thought.

But I could never show my face to anyone. I can't. There is no way I can stomach it.

Although I had the tightness in my throat and the tears in my eyes, I couldn't cry. I blamed it on the shock.

After I was finished vomiting, and was able to work up the energy and mindset to get back up, I put the bandages back around my face. I didn't dare look back in the mirror before I went back out to the medic.

I refused to look at him as I slowly walked back into the livingroom. My mind felt blank now, and I felt soulless.

"Elias…"

"Don't call me that," I weakly spat.

"Sorry… Blitz, I can put new bandages on,"

I shook my head as I stood there, holding the bandage-mask on with one hand, "I am ashamed you know what I look like now. And I can't trust you right now to help me,"

"Ah... Right... I do 'ave one ozer sing you can try…"

I said nothing, prompting him to continue.

"In ze basement zere is a backpack, black and blue, next to ze stand wiz ze record player. Inside is a mask. It should fit you,"

I almost laughed, though it wasn't in amusement. It was more of how random a coincidence it was that he would have a mask for my situation.

"Why do you have a mask?" I ask.

"It belonged to a close friend of mine from South Korea. Chul Kyung. We worked a few missions togezer. Ever since 'e was killed in battle I 'ave kept 'is mask in 'opes to return it to 'is family. But 'is family refused it. So I 'ave kept it…"

"You brought it with you here?"

"Oui—yes. It 'as become somezing of a 'lucky charm',"

"It's not very lucky," I gloomily respond.

He gave a small chuckle.

"Not for me. Not for Chul Kyung. Maybe for you, it is lucky?"

I hummed at his somewhat cryptic response before once more going down to the basement. I found the backpack right away, exactly where he said it would be.

What I pulled out from the backpack was a thick, black mask. I immediately recognized the material was kevlar; it was a ballistic face mask. There was black padding of some kind on the inside for comfort. It had holes for the eyes that were somewhat shaped like a cat's eyes, and the entire mask was shaped to wear comfortably over the mouth and nose, but there were no other holes in the mask. It was smooth overall. There were six points for straps to secure it to the wearer's head. There was a little wear and tear on it.

Was I supposed to wear this for my entire life? A part of me was actually excited, perhaps relieved, that there was something I could use to keep my mutilated face hidden. But I couldn't hide forever, could I?

This is silly...

I put it on, doing the straps to get a real feel for it. It was very comfortable. I bet it was designed this way for long-term use. Despite my worries about the absence of nose or mouth holes, I could breathe fine with it on.

I stood up and looked around the basement, trying to get a feel for wearing the mask as if I was trying on a new pair of shoes. I left the bandages there by the doctor's backpack before I returned upstairs to him.

When I walked back into the main room, he stared at me. I stopped in my tracks, looking down at him.

"'ow does it feel?" He asks.

"It is surprisingly comfortable…" I admit, running my fingers over it, feeling the curves.

"Vigil wore it a lot. Chul Kyung, I mean. 'e 'ad identity issues, in a way. 'e was not 'appy with 'imself or 'is life. 'e was very troubled. Vigil felt much more at ease underneath ze mask. Does it 'elp you, too?"

I thought about it before giving a reluctant nod, "It does,"

"Keep it," the Frenchman offers.

I nod again before sitting back down on the couch.

"I would thank you for this, but I feel like you have created a villain you see in the movies…"

"Heh, I'm ze 'bad guy' 'ere, not you…" he frowns.

"Ja, but I'm the good guy who got hurt and now has to live a bitter life of solitude under a mask. It is definitely the making of a villain, if this were a movie," I feel slightly like myself again, but a little strange wearing the mask so casually.

"I am glad it 'elps you, Blitz," he looks at me, returning to a gloomy expression despite his small smile.

I sigh, "Alright, you can call me Elias, in exchange for the mask. I don't like freebies. I'm going to make a call to see if what you told me earlier about being abducted is true,"

He nods, "Please do. If you can… if you would, please, tell me if ze children are okay?"

"I will let you know, Doc,"

He smiles as I head to the kitchen to make the call, where I would be surprised to learn that his story is actually truth.

* * *

 **R &R?**

 **See you soon.**


	8. Chapter 8

**This resumes from Ela's point of view.**

* * *

For once in my career as a special op, I'm struggling to focus on the task at hand: catching Caveira and finally bringing her down. She's tormented our team long enough. Just thinking about her makes my blood boil…

Yet, I'm still feeling so devastated by finding out that Gustave was working for them all along; working for the rogue BOPE officer. I let myself get too close to him. He got too close to all of us. Pulse was the only one whose gut-feeling about the doctor proved correct. Jack didn't like him from the start.

It makes me feel sick to think I developed any feelings for that bastard!

My mind angrily dwells on the doctor as we finish searching inside the dark, powerless international bank. We took a lot of time carefully trying to track down the elusive "Kapkan" and Caveira but our efforts were fruitless. Nothing seemed to have changed since the last time we were here. No traps, no footprints, no out-of-place-heartbeats hiding in plain sight in Jack's Heartbeat Sensor.

It felt wrong. We all collectively agreed this had to have been a diversion. My heart sank into my stomach, thinking immediately and aloud, "They might know the location of our base!"

Hastily, after we all confidently agreed the building was uninhabited, we headed back to base.

O

O

O

We surrounded our own base, quickly scanning the area, guns drawn. It's still dark outside but the moon is bright.

Thatcher signaled Pulse to the front door. The FBI agent nodded before heading to the door and pulling out his Heartbeat Sensor. After a minute of quietly pacing back and forth by the door, he put the Sensor away and threw up two fingers at Thatcher, indicating he only picked up two heartbeats. That's good. Only Gustave and Elias should be in there.

Once we entered, we all looked at Blitz in unison. Wearing his black hoodie with the hood up, he was sitting back on the couch and had a lighted candle next to the couch which illuminated the room rather well. Because of this, we easily caught sight of his mysterious new mask.

Mute was the first to speak, "Are you alright, Elias? Has anything…" the young Brit was stuck on his words, distracted by the eerie black mask worn by our cheery German comrade, "… happened?"

Blitz looked down at Doc, who was sleeping - or had passed out - on the floor, with a pillow and blanket that Blitz must have sympathetically given to the beaten and bloody man. After a brief moment, Blitz looked back up and exchanged glances with us, his hazel-blue eyes bright with the candle-light amongst the black of the Kevlar mask.

"The doctor is innocent," he answered simply. His voice was still considerably raspy, but I'm sure I heard a bit of bounce in his voice, like the cheerful Blitz I know and love… somewhere in there.

More importantly, what the hell is he saying?

Before I could argue, the older SAS operator got to it first, the anger in his voice matching my own frustrated disbelief, "Have you lost yer fuckin' mind, Blitz?!" Between the creepy mask and being the devil's advocate, Elias must have gone crazy.

"Perhaps," Elias started, "I was in a coma, for how long…? Do you any of you know what I went through?" His voice was low now. A collective feeling of discomfort filled the room as he waited for us to answer, but we remained silent.

He had been holding a wad of dirty, bloody bandages in his hands that I believe had been the ones on his face and neck. He dropped them on the floor before sighing, then looked at the sleeping doctor, "Forget what I said, I am okay, and I do not want any of you to worry… I am truly alright. But I am not crazy,"

"Tell us what you know about the doctor," Pulse impatiently urged him.

I sat next to Blitz carefully, still thinking of his battered and healing body that may very well still be very tenderly sore. I didn't say anything, but I put my hand over his and looked down at the bandages he dropped by his feet. I guess… I understand why he wears the mask, but where on earth did he get it? What does he look like now? It must be so terrible for him to wear such a weird mask…

Elias' hand moved to hold onto mine. I smiled a little, but was still eager to listen to his excuse about Gustave being innocent. My mind wasn't readily open to believe it, no matter what he had to say.

"He told me how he got unwillingly recruited by Caveira and that he is a doctor that works at a hospital outside of the perimeter…" Blitz stopped for a moment and suddenly changed the subject, his eyes locked onto Mike's, "Wait a second, did you guys find her and the other guy?"

"No, we didn't," Pulse growled, "Just get on with your story,"

Mute looked at Pulse for a moment. I couldn't see his expression under his gasmask but I'm sure Mark was a little taken aback by Jack's impatience just as I was. Then Mark began to speak, looking back at the German, "There wasn't the faintest of proof of anyone else having been in that building. We thought perhaps they found this place. But they also may have retreated for now since their plans were well spoiled,"

Thatcher rubbed his head and grumbled, "Elias, ya better not tell me this bastard gave ya a sob story and you fuckin' believed it,"

Blitz glared at the older man, looking rather intimidating with the pure-black mask that the candle's light flickered against, "Don't insult my intelligence,"

"They hurt you, and he was in on it," I reminded him, my voice admirably more gentle than the others as I spoke my own opinion.

Blitz looked at me, his glare faltering, "I am not excusing him for everything that he's done. He was still… or, he IS still our enemy, and that is unforgivable. However, I called the hospital he claimed to work at. I had everything he said verified. He is actually a missing persons,"

"So what makes him 'innocent'?" Jack asked, practically interrupting the German again.

"Stop cutting me off, dummkopf. Listen to me,"

The slightest hue of sunlight began seeping through the small outlines of the closed blinds and curtains. We've been awake for a long time now. Gustave is now waking up, catching everybody's attention as he moans in pain.

Thatcher walked over to the groggy and crippled Frenchman and tore the blanket off of him. Then he snatched the blood-stained pillow from under his head, causing Doc to hiss and growl in pain. I cringed when I replayed the image of Mike shoving his knife into Gustave's ear… twice…

"You don't deserve these. Just fuckin' rot," Mike loudly growled before tossing the items onto the couch next to Blitz. I couldn't see Blitz's face besides his eyes, but I know he's never been a fan of Mike's needlessly brutal torture. It's not that he felt bad for the captives, he just thought the older SAS operator got too much of a thrill out of hurting them, whether it got results or not, and that disgusted him in a way. Mark had very similar feelings about Mike's animalistic, albeit successful means of interrogation.

Blitz stood up then, still a bit wobbly on his feet but he kept his balance. He looked at Mike, who turned to face him, "He is not a threat to us any longer. He is not for you to vent your anger,"

Mike scoffed, "Eh, so you're standin' up for the captive, are ya? Get off your high-horse. Better yet, show us what yer hiding under that mask? Coverin' up the wounds these bastards gave ya!"

"He wasn't part of… that. Regardless, he's incapacitated, and we need nothing more from him now,"

"I'm with Mike on this," Pulse began, stepping closer to the older Brit and looking at Blitz with an annoyed expression, "You can't even show your face. They disfigured you—"

"It was Caveira," Elias barked.

Pulse continued, "Caveira, Sledge and our own 'doctor'" he glared down at Gustave who had managed to awkwardly sit himself up against the wall. His reddened, coffee-brown eyes were on me. He looked sad. Then he looked away.

I felt sad, too.

"He also saved Elias' life. More than once, technically," the ever-calm-and-proper Mark added.

"Without him, I would not be here arguing with you," Blitz firmly stated. It left the room in silence, aside from a gruff sigh from Thatcher.

I wanted to change the subject for now, noticing the sunlight protruding into the house more and more, "I'll stay up and keep watch first. You guys need to rest," They were grumpy; understandably so, but I just wanted to talk to Elias one-on-one and avoid more arguing.

Jack said nothing as he left for his bedroom. He didn't need to; the air around him gave off an angry presence.

"I trust you, Ela," Thatcher said as he passed me. I could hear in his voice that he really meant 'don't do anything stupid, Ela'. Grumpy asshole.

Mute pulled off his gasmask and ran his gloved fingers through his hair. He sighed heavily.

"Before I go to bed," Mark started, "Elias, where did you get that mask?"

Blitz had sat back down on the couch next to me. He nodded towards Doc then looked back at Mute. The dirty-blond Brit nodded back, "Interesting. It's not a good look for you. It doesn't suit you at all,"

With that, Mark headed to his room.

Elias and I stayed silent for a while, just holding hands. I examined his hand closest to me, looking over his scabbed and scarred cuts. I gently rubbed over them with my thumb. His eyes were tired and relaxed as he watched our hands interact.

Every once in a while I'd sneak a glance at Gustave. Most of the time his eyes were closed but sometimes we'd lock eyes for a few seconds. I still found him handsome, even with the blood and dirt all over him, his messy hair, his red and swollen eyes. I was still so pissed off at him, too, but I was starting to forget why. Yes, he was working for Caveira, but Elias believed the French doctor was somehow coerced into it by the Brazilian woman. He said he verified it as the truth. And I believe Elias.

"What are we going to do?" I quietly blurt out to no one in particular.

"Hm?" Blitz hummed in curiosity, looking at me. I was still looking into Doc's dark eyes.

"What are we going to do with him, Elias?"

Blitz took a moment before realizing I was talking about our medic. He looked at the doctor, who never broke his gaze from mine.

Looking back at me, my German friend asks, "What do you think we should do with him?"

I honestly cannot think of an answer. All I can think of is how much I want to hug Gustave tightly and forget about all of this. I want Caveira to be dead and for all of us to have a somewhat normal life after she's gone.

"Don't worry about it, Ela," I look at Blitz now, whose voice sounds gentle but a little playful, "I am the coolest guy you will ever have in your life,"

I blushed, realizing how obvious it must have been that I liked the doctor. Then I gave Elias a shove, "Stop it. Just go to sleep," I pushed him down onto the couch until he was lying on his back, then I grabbed the pillow Thatcher had tossed aside and pretended to suffocate Blitz with it. His arms flailed as he pretended poorly that he was really dying. It got a genuine laugh out of me. Then I remembered Gustave was watching and somehow I felt awkward and embarrassed, so I pulled the pillow away and sat back against the couch, hugging onto the cheap, old pillow.

Blitz groaned as he forced his sore body to sit back up, "What's wrong?"

I shook my head, "Nothing. I don't want to talk about it,"

"Ela, go to sleep. I slept so much since I was injured, I can stay awake for one night," the kind German replied.

I didn't want to argue about who should sleep or stay awake. I change the subject again, looking straight at him with the pillow in my lap, "Are you going to wear that mask forever?" I should have realized it was a rude thing to ask but my curiosity trumped my common sense.

He was a bit taken aback before answering, his fingers touching at the black, featureless mask, "I don't know…"

Then he sat up straighter and forcefully changed his tone to a more playful one, not wanting our conversation to be so depressing, "It brings out my eyes, I think,"

I didn't laugh or even smile as I looked into his bright eyes, "You don't need to hide from me, you know,"

He sighed, "Ela, I just c—"

I interrupted him by touching his mask. He grabbed my wrist quicker than I could react, and his grip was tight. We stared at each other for a long moment, frozen like this. His eyes were serious but scared.

"Don't," was all he said.

After he slowly released my wrist I carefully wrapped my arms around him in a hug. He hugged me in return, rubbing my back slowly. I must have been more tired than I thought, because I fell asleep in his arms.


End file.
